Things Can Change
by Kasablanca's Amontillado
Summary: For England, the Student President of Gakuen, everything was supposed to be simple. The people, the schedule, the feelings. But one day everything can change. One person can change everything. He never had liked change, but this change didn't seem to be bad. In fact, this change alsmost felt, well, nice. Fruk, Spamano, PrusCan, RusAme, and more


Author's Comments: Based off of something my friend and I did together. She did the parts of England, Prussia, and Romano. I did the parts of France, Spain, and Germany. Also, for later: She does the part of Russia, and I did the part of America.

Hetalia Axis Powers- Belong to its respectful and awesome owner- Himaruya, Hidekaz

Also: This is a FanFICTION. It can have whatever I want to write in it. I know this sounds probably mean, but I DON'T CARE AT ALL if you don't like the pairings. I don't like Fruk myself, and PrusCan is a freaking different universe I haven't explored yet. I DON'T CARE if you don't what's written. I DON'T CARE if you hate it because of the pairings. MOVE ON and don't read it again.

If it isn't your cup of tea, put the saucer down. Onto the story! (No warnings because nothing happens in this chapter)

England sat in the back of the limo confused, and c urious, but his face was an angry scowl. The President of the Student Body of Gakuen, Arthur Kirkland, titled Englad, was always the student to be on campus every day, at any time. You could always find him in the library, walking through the halls, in his dorm, or any where else on the campus of the private school. But today -no, tonight- was different. No, change that again, the entire day had been different. England could tell today would be something special, if not enitrely different than his usual.

As he sat there in the limo, listening to the excited talk of the students in the car with him, he thought over all that had happened during the day, running over the details, summarizing it. Again, he was brought back to this morning, in his dorm room. England closed his eyes and, for a moment, the entire day played out in his head. It went like this:

As usual, France had woken up much earlier than him. Also, according to their usual schedule, the Frenchman had turned on the coffee pot, left the dorm for a few moments to smoke, and then returned. When he returned, he woke up his dormmate, England. England knew he had smoked; he could smell it on his clothes. Then, the English gentleman got up and, over the course of maybe half an hour, drained the coffee from the pot, while France made a cheap version of breakfast using the microwave (it still tasted loads better than anything England had ever cooked- not that he told France this).

After they ate, France used the phone for about twenty minutes, and chatted with -England assumed- Prussia and Spain. He assumed this because the other casually kept changing languages from French, German, and Spanish. England didn't bother trying to translate this: he already knew what they were talking about. It was Saturday, and the three usually went out. However, France hung up earlier than usual and gave his attention to England.

"'ow about I 'elp you wiz your 'omework?" France asked him, his French accent ignoring the letter 'h' and murdering the 'th' sound. His offer was in a friendly voice, and was by no means out of ordinary. England often needed help in European History: it was hard for him to change his perspective about how history had occured, and, despite what England would've expected, France was surprisingly excellent at his school work. The Frenchman was an honor student. It was easy to see how he actually earned his title as Vice President. England was the President.

"Sure, git. What about your homework? Don't you need to be working on that, too?" England asked in return, in his forever-mad-at-you voice. France waved aside his question.

"I can multi-task, unlike you." He winked as he said this. England rolled his eyes, as France pulled up a chair next to him. Immediately the two were professional with each other, England going right into his questions about the Hundred Years War.

They worked together for about two hours, France answering any, and all, of England's questions while he worked on his homework as well. As then worked, England felt more and more awful. The war had been awful on England's half, leaving him in poverty, and deseperate enough to take help from both the Irish, and the Scottish, but he also learned about its effects on France.

Not only did England completely dominate half of France's land, -automatically linking poverty with France's state- he had decimated the army. This left France defenseless from other countries, and also ruined the hope of the French people. And they couldn't even turn to their Pope for help because, at the time, England was also Catholic.

But the war, and its effects, weren't the only reason England had begun to feel bad. Every once in a while, he glanced over at France, to see a completely concentrated look on his face as he worked. England recognized his homework as that from Calculus, and he knew mathematics weren't France's strong suit. He often had heard France complain to Spain over the phone about calling him while he worked on math.

"I need to put all of my concentration into it! I can't 'elp you wiz everyzing!" He even remembered the odd 'crunch' in France's voice as he forced out the letter 'r' in 'concentration'.

Even so, France looked up every time England had another question, and answered him without hesitation. England even watched France's expressions as he went back to his homework. This is what made him feel the most awful- he would watch as France's face went from astonished, to confused, to struggle, to frustration, and then finally back to concentration. As they continued, the expressions of confusion through frustration took longer, before he could go back to concentrating.

"Frog." England started out. France looked up at him, not surprised by the nickname, even though he looked slightly irritated.

"Quoi, Iggy?" He replied, also using the nickname that England hated. England scowled at France, as the other gave him a mocking smile. (quoi = what *in French*)

"You're going to join me for lunch today. I'm paying." England said forcefully, before closing his book. "And we're done working the day. We've done enough." He stood up from the double-desk and turned off the desk light. France looked unphased, and leaned back in his chair.

"Alright, fine." He was still smiling to England. Once again, England heard the strange 'crunch' on the 'r', and he also noticed a slight over-pronounciation of the 'i' in 'fine'. It was a disgrace to the Queen's English, but England didn't care for now.

"I'm going to go down and play a video game," He informed France, always one to tell his dormmate where he would be. It made him feel duitful. This time France just nodded to him, showing that he understood. England stacked his books neatly on the desk before heading to the door. Before he left the dorm, he turned at looked at France, who was still smiling, but looked almost dejected. "You can join me, if you like." He said, offhandedly.

"I'd like zat." He heard France reply. For a reason he didn't yet understand, England smiled at the comment.

"Then c'mon, git."


End file.
